Monday, January 31, 2011

What She Gathered In The Wood


If he doesn't fear you, he has failed to understand you.


The thing is, he must fear you, but this must not turn him away.

Then you will have found a woodcutter to build you a home.


He who goes into the thicket with spear and blade to kill the hart.



The last few days of sickness reduced us to laying on the sofa and watching Battlestar and touching each other in the mindless, comforting way that a parent touches a child, or the way two old lovers do, not unlike petting a good dog. Full of affection and tenderness, absent of desire or need or demand or rebuke or reconciliation.

Nor did it fail to heal something in us.


Now we are apart for a spell. It is good to take leave from each other from a place of strength and calm. It is bitter and hard to do so when things are already fragile, for you fear one of you might enjoy the distance too well.

There isn't ever any guarantee. The past does not buy you a ticket to the future.

Knowing that, you sign on anyway.


The woman has been my great good blessing in this life, all I ever wanted for true and in ernest.

Still, I'm greedy for her and begrudge each day spent without her, like throwing gold out of a coach window on the way to town.


Still, I walked the dog on the beach in the golden light of the late afternoon and there was the salt tang of the sea in my nostrils and the thrash and boom of the green water against the rocks and the cries of birds in the sage and I thought I might could live a whole lifetime without setting foot inside a building again or looking at a computer screen or getting in a car.

I was meant to be a pastoral nomad.

To raise beasts and to go on raiding parties against the soft villagers and to sleep by a fire on a wide steppe under a hard and glittering night sky.







Blogger Wendy said...

Your heart is bigger than your body. How crazy is it that we benefit as readers when your lady is close at hand and likewise we benefit when she is gone--we benefit because the the love letters to her become love letters about the world and to it. You make me feel hopeful and restore love from the grasp commercialism has on it. Thanks.

6:28 PM  
Blogger Ms. Moon said...

I wonder if you know how large your gift is.
I do wonder that.

6:33 PM  
Blogger 37paddington said...

I inhaled sharply when i read this and my husband was beside me and asked what, and so i read this to him, especially the lines about loving your woman and he nodded and knew why i gasped. your writing is like nothing i have ever read. it comes from such a powerful deep place. perhaps you feel more than most humans and so you perceive more too. the pastoral nomad who lives inside walls is a perfect metaphor really for the wild untamed barely contained emotion that lives inside you and sometimes comes out here in the most exquisite painful beautiful searing way.

i confess i am glad you met a computer screen at some point. you move hearts here.

6:56 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I too believe that when Gozer the Gozarian asked Dr. Ray Venkman, “Are you a God?” He should have responded “YES” as Winston Zeddemore later suggested. (Yes, I’m speaking in gibberish references to a early-80s-comedy about Ghost Busting) The fact of the matter is, all of us (even hell-spawned-mega-demon-kings) respond to the preconceived schemas we have built in our minds/belief systems

8:50 PM  
Blogger Elisabeth said...

I suspect it's the primitive or infantile in us that seeks comfort in human closeness, especially when ill and vunerable.

This is such beautiful writing Dishwasher. Thank you.

11:31 PM  
Anonymous Hoodrich said...

Love the pic, big dog.


5:57 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

see what you do? i'm talking about those comments up there.

(also, happy day because anon referenced ray venkman, gozer, winston, and the rest)

6:15 PM  
Blogger Lisa Ursu said...

Incredible writing.
Thank you for sharing this.

6:40 PM  
Blogger deirdre said...

Did she get away okay? Did the skies clear? I thought of you and her and the flying all day yesterday.

You pastoral nomad. Yes to all of that, everything you hold.

10:12 AM  
Blogger deirdre said...

And that picture, the shining black and naked and glow of the skull, gathering ... jesus.

10:15 AM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


I'm glad you get something out of this place. I find it difficult to say anything meaningful in response to your kind comment, but I'm grateful to you.



6:39 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Ms. Moon-

I don't have any idea how large my gift might be, but I know it can't compare to the good ju-ju you send my way. Thank you.

6:41 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


I'm humbled and grateful to have you as a reader here. You are a wonderful example of a strong, loving, deep-feeling human being, and I'm glad to know you. Those around you are really blessed to have you in their lives, and I'm certain they know it.

6:43 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


Vinz, you said before you were waiting for a sign. What sign are you waiting for?

Gozer the Traveler. He will come in one of the pre-chosen forms. During the rectification of the Vuldrini, the traveler came as a large and moving Torg! Then, during the third reconciliation of the last of the McKetrick supplicants, they chose a new form for him: that of a giant Slor! Many Shuvs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Slor that day, I can tell you!

Gotta love the dudes. Thanks!

6:47 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


Primitive and infantile pretty much sums me up. I'm glad you like the writing and I'm really glad you joined this little tribe.

6:48 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


Right up your alley, huh? Not overtly criminal, but dark....

6:49 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...

Dottie Kee Bones-

Everything you ever say makes me feel good.

I'm so glad I know you.

6:50 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


Thanks. I'm really glad you find something of value here. So much of the time I hate what I write and kind of feel shitty about this blog, and it's helpful to hear from someone outside my own head that maybe some of it is worthwhile.

so, thanks!

6:51 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


She made it fine. As soon as I got back from the airport I pulled up the little flight tracker they have online and watched her tiny red airplane all the way across the continent.

I'm not exactly paranoid about air travel. I'm the same way every time she gets in the car. Hyper vigilant. I know this world, man.

It's dangerous.

Anyway, thanks. Always good to hear from you.

6:54 PM  

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